The Donkey Festival

At this place in the litany, however, Zarathustra could no longer control himself; he himself cried out YE-A, louder even than the ass, and sprang into the midst of his maddened guests. “Whatever are you about, ye grown-up children?” he exclaimed, pulling up the praying ones from the ground. “Alas, if any one else, except Zarathustra, had seen you:

At this point in the litany, however, Zarathustra could no longer control himself. He cried out YE-A, even louder than the donkey, and sprang into the middle of his maddened guests. “What on earth are you doing, you grown-up children?” he exclaimed, pulling those who were praying up from the ground. “Alas, if anyone other than Zarathustra had seen you:

Every one would think you the worst blasphemers, or the very foolishest old women, with your new belief!

Everyone would think your new belief makes you the worst blasphemers or the most foolish old women!

And thou thyself, thou old pope, how is it in accordance with thee, to adore an ass in such a manner as God?”—

And you, old pope, how can you worship a donkey as God like this?”

“O Zarathustra,” answered the pope, “forgive me, but in divine matters I am more enlightened even than thou. And it is right that it should be so.

“Oh, Zarathustra,” the pope replied, “forgive me, but I know even more than you about divine matters. And that is only right.

Better to adore God so, in this form, than in no form at all! Think over this saying, mine exalted friend: thou wilt readily divine that in such a saying there is wisdom.

It is better to worship God in this form than in no form at all! Think about this saying, my exalted friend. You will readily see the wisdom in it.

He who said ‘God is a Spirit’—made the greatest stride and slide hitherto made on earth towards unbelief: such a dictum is not easily amended again on earth!

The one who said ‘God is a Spirit’ took the greatest stride and slide toward unbelief the world had ever seen. Such a statement is not easily corrected on earth!

Mine old heart leapeth and boundeth because there is still something to adore on earth. Forgive it, O Zarathustra, to an old, pious pontiff-heart!—”

My old heart leaps and bounds because there is still something to adore on earth. Forgive an old, devout pope’s heart, Zarathustra!”

—“And thou,” said Zarathustra to the wanderer and shadow, “thou callest and thinkest thyself a free spirit? And thou here practisest such idolatry and hierolatry?

“And you,” Zarathustra said to the wanderer and shadow, “you call yourself a free spirit and think you are one? Yet here you worship idols and sacred things?”

Worse verily, doest thou here than with thy bad brown girls, thou bad, new believer!”

You are doing worse here than you did with your bad brown girls, you bad new believer!”

“It is sad enough,” answered the wanderer and shadow, “thou art right: but how can I help it! The old God liveth again, O Zarathustra, thou mayst say what thou wilt.

“It is sad enough,” replied the wanderer and shadow. “You are right, but what can I do about it? The old God lives again, Zarathustra, no matter what you say.

The ugliest man is to blame for it all: he hath reawakened him. And if he say that he once killed him, with Gods DEATH is always just a prejudice.”

The ugliest man is to blame for it all. He has awakened him again. And if he says he once killed him, death is always just a prejudice when it comes to gods.”

—“And thou,” said Zarathustra, “thou bad old magician, what didst thou do! Who ought to believe any longer in thee in this free age, when THOU believest in such divine donkeyism?

“And you,” said Zarathustra, “you wicked old magician, what have you done! Who should still believe in you in this free age, when YOU believe in such divine donkeyism?

It was a stupid thing that thou didst; how couldst thou, a shrewd man, do such a stupid thing!”

You did a stupid thing. How could a shrewd man like you do something so stupid!”

“O Zarathustra,” answered the shrewd magician, “thou art right, it was a stupid thing,—it was also repugnant to me.”

“O Zarathustra,” the shrewd magician replied, “you are right. It was a stupid thing. I found it repulsive too.”

—“And thou even,” said Zarathustra to the spiritually conscientious one, “consider, and put thy finger to thy nose! Doth nothing go against thy conscience here? Is thy spirit not too cleanly for this praying and the fumes of those devotees?”

“And you too,” Zarathustra said to the spiritually conscientious one, “think about it and put your finger to your nose! Does nothing here go against your conscience? Is your spirit not too clean for this praying and the fumes of those devotees?”

“There is something therein,” said the spiritually conscientious one, and put his finger to his nose, “there is something in this spectacle which even doeth good to my conscience.

“There is something in it,” said the spiritually conscientious one, putting his finger to his nose. “There is something in this spectacle that even makes my conscience feel good.

Perhaps I dare not believe in God: certain it is however, that God seemeth to me most worthy of belief in this form.

Perhaps I dare not believe in God. But I am certain that God seems most worthy of belief in this form.

God is said to be eternal, according to the testimony of the most pious: he who hath so much time taketh his time. As slow and as stupid as possible: THEREBY can such a one nevertheless go very far.

The most devout say that God is eternal. Someone with so much time takes his time. As slowly and stupidly as possible: THAT is how such a person can still go very far.

And he who hath too much spirit might well become infatuated with stupidity and folly. Think of thyself, O Zarathustra!

And someone with too much spirit might well become infatuated with stupidity and folly. Think of yourself, Zarathustra!

Thou thyself—verily! even thou couldst well become an ass through superabundance of wisdom.

You yourself, yes, even you could become a donkey from having too much wisdom.

Doth not the true sage willingly walk on the crookedest paths? The evidence teacheth it, O Zarathustra,—THINE OWN evidence!”

Doesn't the true sage willingly walk the most crooked paths? The evidence shows this, Zarathustra. YOUR OWN evidence!”

—“And thou thyself, finally,” said Zarathustra, and turned towards the ugliest man, who still lay on the ground stretching up his arm to the ass (for he gave it wine to drink). “Say, thou nondescript, what hast thou been about!

“And finally, you,” said Zarathustra, turning to the ugliest man. The man was still lying on the ground, reaching up to give the donkey wine. “Tell me, you strange creature, what have you been doing!

Thou seemest to me transformed, thine eyes glow, the mantle of the sublime covereth thine ugliness: WHAT didst thou do?

You seem changed to me. Your eyes glow, and a cloak of sublimity covers your ugliness. WHAT did you do?

Is it then true what they say, that thou hast again awakened him? And why? Was he not for good reasons killed and made away with?

Is it true what they say, that you have awakened him again? And why? Wasn't he killed and disposed of for good reasons?

Thou thyself seemest to me awakened: what didst thou do? why didst THOU turn round? Why didst THOU get converted? Speak, thou nondescript!”

You yourself seem awake to me. What did you do? Why did YOU turn around? Why did YOU convert? Speak, you nondescript!”

“O Zarathustra,” answered the ugliest man, “thou art a rogue!

“Oh, Zarathustra,” the ugliest man answered, “you’re a scoundrel!

Whether HE yet liveth, or again liveth, or is thoroughly dead—which of us both knoweth that best? I ask thee.

Is he still alive, alive again, or completely dead? I ask you, which of us knows best?

One thing however do I know,—from thyself did I learn it once, O Zarathustra: he who wanteth to kill most thoroughly, LAUGHETH.

But I do know one thing. I learned it from you once, Zarathustra: whoever wants to kill most thoroughly LAUGHS.

‘Not by wrath but by laughter doth one kill’—thus spakest thou once, O Zarathustra, thou hidden one, thou destroyer without wrath, thou dangerous saint,—thou art a rogue!”

‘It is not anger but laughter that kills.’ That is what you once said, Zarathustra. You hidden one, you destroyer without anger, you dangerous saint, you are a rogue!”

Then, however, did it come to pass that Zarathustra, astonished at such merely roguish answers, jumped back to the door of his cave, and turning towards all his guests, cried out with a strong voice:

But then Zarathustra, astonished by such merely mischievous answers, jumped back to the entrance of his cave. He turned to all his guests and cried out in a loud voice:

“O ye wags, all of you, ye buffoons! Why do ye dissemble and disguise yourselves before me!

“Oh, you jokers, all of you, you clowns! Why do you hide your true selves and wear disguises before me!

How the hearts of all of you convulsed with delight and wickedness, because ye had at last become again like little children—namely, pious,—

How all your hearts convulsed with delight and wickedness because you had finally become like little children again, pious!

—Because ye at last did again as children do—namely, prayed, folded your hands and said ‘good God’!

Because you finally acted like children again: you prayed, folded your hands, and said ‘good God’!

But now leave, I pray you, THIS nursery, mine own cave, where to-day all childishness is carried on. Cool down, here outside, your hot child-wantonness and heart-tumult!

But now, please leave THIS nursery, my own cave, where all this childish behavior is going on today. Cool down outside, and calm your wild childish impulses and the turmoil in your hearts!

To be sure: except ye become as little children ye shall not enter into THAT kingdom of heaven.” (And Zarathustra pointed aloft with his hands.)

Indeed, unless you become like little children, you will not enter THAT kingdom of heaven.” (And Zarathustra pointed upward with his hands.)

“But we do not at all want to enter into the kingdom of heaven: we have become men,—SO WE WANT THE KINGDOM OF EARTH.”

“But we do not want to enter the kingdom of heaven at all. We have become men, SO WE WANT THE KINGDOM OF EARTH.”

And once more began Zarathustra to speak. “O my new friends,” said he,— “ye strange ones, ye higher men, how well do ye now please me,—

And once again Zarathustra began to speak. “Oh, my new friends,” he said, “you strange ones, you higher men, how pleased I am with you now,

—Since ye have again become joyful! Ye have, verily, all blossomed forth: it seemeth to me that for such flowers as you, NEW FESTIVALS are required.

Now that you have become joyful again! You have all blossomed, truly. It seems to me that flowers like you need NEW FESTIVALS.

—A little valiant nonsense, some divine service and ass-festival, some old joyful Zarathustra fool, some blusterer to blow your souls bright.

A little brave nonsense, some worship and an ass-festival, some joyful old Zarathustra fool, some loudmouth to blow your souls bright.

Forget not this night and this ass-festival, ye higher men! THAT did ye devise when with me, that do I take as a good omen,—such things only the convalescents devise!

Do not forget this night and this ass-festival, you higher men! You came up with it while you were with me. I take it as a good sign, because only those who are recovering come up with such things!

And should ye celebrate it again, this ass-festival, do it from love to yourselves, do it also from love to me! And in remembrance of me!”

And if you celebrate this ass-festival again, do it out of love for yourselves, and also out of love for me! And in remembrance of me!”

Thus spake Zarathustra.

Thus spoke Zarathustra.